The Kill Fee
by bloodravenclaw
Summary: Prince Zuko travels to the seedier part of town to hire the services of a contract killer to hunt down the Avatar and his friends. An alternate way for him to have hired Combustion Man.


The Kill Fee

A/N: I was going through a book of writing prompts and one of them was "the kill fee" (hence the title) and this is what happened. An alternate way for Zuko to have hired Combustion Man.

Zuko stepped into the hidden back room of the bar and pulled off his hood. Closing the door muffled the noise of the clamorous main room, but sealed him into the room with the stink of cheap alcohol and unwashed human. In the dim light from a single candle, he could just make out the figure of a bony old man slumped over the dirty wooden table with an empty bottle in his hand. _Th__is__ must be Rokurou, _he thought to himself. He strode across the small room and roughly shook him. "Wake up, old man!"

"Wha-What?" Rokurou jerked upright and squinted up at the prince through small, watery eyes. "Now, young man, wasn't no need for none o'-"

"Shut up." Rokurou closed his mouth, but crossed his arms. The prince continued speaking. "I'm here to talk business."

Rokurou looked like he was about to play dumb, but the glint in his customer's eyes made him reconsider. Zuko noted with distaste the man's missing teeth and matted hair. Was this wreck of a man really in charge of the Fire Nation's best illegitimate assassins? He hadn't expected anything fancy, but this man looked more like a drunk beggar one would find in the gutter than leader of an illicit ring of highly skilled killers. Still, his father let the organization stay in existence for a reason. The killers employed by Rokurou were the best to hire if one needed to secretly get an enemy out of the picture, and Zuko had a strong suspicion that Ozai had hired one once or twice to discreetly do away with officials who were too outspoken in their opinions against the war.

The old man rubbed some gunk out of his eye. "Mmhh. Business, you say?"

Zuko dropped a fat pouch of coins on the tabletop. Rokurou's fingers twitched with greed, but he knew from long experience to make himself appear unimpressed. "That's all gold." Zuko paused. "I've heard about you. They say you're good at what you do, and even better at keeping secrets. The Avatar is alive. I want you to find him, and end him."

The old man gave a laugh that turned into a wet hack. "Don' be ridiculous, young man. No one's seen the Avatar in a hundred years. Git on your way." He tried to take a swig from his bottle, looked at it in disappointment upon realizing it was empty, and let it fall to the floor. He then laid his head back on the table. "Capture th' Avatar, ha," he muttered, and shut his eyes.

Zuko gritted his teeth at the man's dismissive attitude. He had laughed in the face of the future Fire Lord! He forced himself to stay calm. He didn't want to reveal his identity, not if he could help it. He knew the assassin ring had a reputation for secrecy, but he didn't want to antagonize Rokurou into letting slip that he'd received a visit from the fire prince. He felt grateful for the dim lighting. "Look here –" he dug a few more coins from his pocket and stacked them next to the pouch. "I don't care that the Avatar's not around just – just send an assassin after him. I can pay." He laid a small sheet of paper face down on the table. "That paper has information on where I – where they were last seen."

Rokurou opened one eye and looked at the coins. Mentally he calculated how much the client had set down. More than customers usually paid, but then, this fellow didn't need to know that. He wondered if he could get a little more out of him. "Hm, might could arrange that." he gave a high-pitched groan as he pushed himself into a sitting position. "'Course, my killers don' come cheap."

Internally grumbling in irritation, Zuko added another coin to the stack. "Send the best you've got."

"Mmhh, take a little more'n that." Rokurou picked at his teeth with a long, dirty fingernail. "Might be I got just the fellow for the job, but it'll be costin' you extra, sendin' him on a nonsense assignment like that." He removed his finger from his mouth, examined whatever prize he'd extracted from behind a molar, and flicked it away. Zuko hid his disgust as best he could as it flew past his face.

Stacking yet another coin, Zuko said, "This will have to do. It's all I've got." A lie, of course, but he'd prefer to keep the cost down. He had plenty more with him, but he preferred to minimize the risk of his father noticing the missing money and asking awkward questions. A handful or two of coins wouldn't be missed, but an assassin cost considerably more, and even Ozai, inattentive father that he was, might notice. _If Father __finds out that the Avatar isn't actually dead … _No. He wouldn't think about that. The assassin would kill the Avatar, Zuko would continue living his life as the honorable crown prince, and Ozai would be none the wiser that Aang had ever escaped.

"Hm. Doubt that." But Rokurou took the coins nonetheless and counted them out. "S'pose this'll do. Right, young man, this 'Avatar' you want dead'll be taken care of in no time, don't you worry. A week, tops." He dug around in his pockets for a two blank contract forms, a bottle of ink, and a brush. He filled in a few blanks and passed it across the table. "Read an' sign."

Zuko didn't appreciate being "young man"-ed, but he clenched his jaw and put up with it. _Insolent commoner … if only he knew who I was … _It took all his willpower, but he resisted the urge to fling his identity in Rokurou's face and teach him a lesson on the proper respect due to a member of the royal family. "See that it happens." Taking the contracts, Zuko took the brush, noting with displeasure the coarse, uneven bristles, and signed without bothering to glance over them first.

Rokurou squinted as he checked the forms. "Mmh. Alright, "Lee," that'll be taken care of." He raised his scruffy eyebrows in a way that suggested he knew that "Lee" wasn't his customer's real name, but didn't say anything of it. He was used to people taking false names when they asked for his services, and this particular client would surely have more reason than most to hide who he was. "You keep this one." He handed back one of the papers, which Zuko pocketed, and continued, "Where you want me to send word once this it's done, young man?"

It might have been his imagination, but Zuko thought it looked like Rokurou had a knowing look on his face, as though he already knew exactly where to send news. _Don't be ridiculous. _"Don't worry about that. I'll come back here in a week." It'd be inconvenient, but having him send a messenger to the royal palace would prove disastrous.

"Suit yourself."

Zuko turned, raised his hood to obscure his face, and opened the door to the crowded, smoky bar. Before he could step through the doorway, though, he heard Rokurou speak again.

"Your secret's safe with me, Prince Zuko."

Zuko's mouth dropped open in shock. _No! So he _did_ recognize me! I should have kept my hood up. _Then came the anger. _T__hat old __drunkard__ disrespect__ed__ me! _He turned around and could just see Rokurou's smug, gap-toothed smile. "Augh!" Zuko wanted to march back into the room and burn the insolence out of the old man, but he restrained himself: he needed an assassin, and although he knew that Rokurou's organization never disclosed the identities of its clients, he didn't want to push it. Instead, he contented himself with putting a long black scorch mark on the stone floor, ignoring the curious looks of the bar's patrons on his way out into the night.


End file.
